Capable Hands
by Myradream
Summary: Set after season 8 after Kim and her family have been enrolled into the Witness Protection Program. What happens when a family, living in the midwest, finds out that the new job opportunity the Wife has found isn't at all what it appeared to be. This will be dark. It will deal with Sexual Trafficking, torture. There will be many triggers. Hopefully Jack'll show up soon! M!


Kim Bauer waited for the light to turn, and the crosswalk to blink with the little walking stick figure, allowing her to go. She rolled her eyes. and tapped her foot impatiently, not paying attention to the snow that had turned into brown sludge over the long winter. It was early January now, a start of another year. She glanced around, careful to note if there was anyone watching her. Years of practice and experience had left her wary, and constantly watching over her shoulder.

A french-tip manicured hand moved to run through her dyed dark brown hair. When she looked in the mirror these days, she barely recognized the girl she had once been. Every provision had been made for her, and her husband, and their beautiful daughters safe transition into the Witness Protection Program. She had been convinced it would be safer, and after many questions, she had been comfortable with the relative safety that Chloe seemed to feel that the program would provide. They were on year two in hiding.

Duluth, Minnesota was as good of place as any to hide away in. It was brutally cold, and rather close to Canada, if one needed to make a quick get away. She started to walk as the stick figure indicated she should, and nearly jumped out of her skin, when a dark blue Lexus took a quick turn, splashing her with the slush she'd been so carefully avoiding. The surprise of the cold splash that quickly made it's way through her black slacks. Readjusting her coffee thermos, and her laptop satchel, leaving one hand free she turned to give him the driver of the expensive vehicle the full stretch of her middle finger. Eyes narrowing, as she called out every variety of expletive that came to mind, the result coming out in a sad stream of "You bastardballsack cuntwhore!"

She blushed, as the man continued on her way and she glanced around. Grateful that it was too cold for most people to be venturing out into the cold, and no one appeared to have seen her fit, including the driver that had nearly ran her down and splashed her outfit. She was supposed to be keeping a low profile, and that little outburst hardly qualified as trying her best to fit in. That wasn't the Midwestern way. Her eyes narrowed, and she continued across the street, safe on the sidewalk taking a moment and trying to dry off the large patch on her thigh that had been targeted by the splashing, leaving it darkened, from where the water was still drying, and the tell-tale powder of salt, that was everywhere this time of year, attempting to keep the ice from taking over. The hills were high and treacherous enough as it was, and ice didn't help the situation one bit.

She took out her cell phone, clicking the little button on the side. 2:43. Good. She had time. Her meeting was for 3:00, at the local Coffee Shoppe, a place called "The Company." She'd been fond of it since they'd arrived, and the traveling coffee thermos she held had it's logo amid the metallic red swirls of the cup. She made a good living working as a 911 dispatcher, but the evening hours she was forced to work were causing a strain on her relationship with her husband. He had been certified under their new name as an accountant, and worked at one of the tax preparation places in town, but his hours were during the day, and hers at night, they barely saw each other. And when they did, they were frequently fighting over ways to raise their daughter. Little Teri, who was growing up so fast.

"No. Not Teri. Ramona" She found herself muttering under her breath, before she even realized she was speaking. It was conditioning. And she muttered the names to herself as she continued her way down the sidewalk. Taking her time with her solitude. The coffee shop a block down and to the left would be busy, it always was, and she needed to get herself focused before the interview took place. She murmured her chant quietly to herself. " Ramona Peterson. Donald Peterson. Susan Peterson."

Good, normal names. Not their names, but they had been for the last two years, and she'd almost got used to calling her husband Donnie, but sometimes when they fought, she regressed back to the name she'd met him with, and she'd yell Stephen, and he'd give her that look of fear, and she wouldn't say another word. It was too dangerous. They both knew it, and she avoided confrontation with him, because she was the more likely of the two to give everything away in a heated moment, as she had proven time and time again. Their daughter was getting older, and she'd be asking questions. One careless neighbor, or someone trying to piece things together… the danger was real. Kim. No! Susan, knew that well enough from her years as the daughter of one of the most celebrated and condemned heroes and villains of the countries modern history. Depending on who you asked. It was always the small things. The little thread that began to pull away, and the sweater unraveled.

The unravelling of this garment, could end up with them all dead, a very clear message delivered. She shook her head a little and focused. Susan didn't have a famous Father. Susan's Father was "buried" in the countryside of Nebraska, alongside her Mother. 93, Susan's Mother had died of cancer, and in 2003, a heart attack had taken her Father the following year. All of the details were memorized, from the home schooling her pretend conservative Mother had insisted upon, to stories and anecdotes that had been typed up for her, and given as a parting gift from Chloe, the very last time she had left CTU. They had passports, social security cards, and numbers of their new identities, and all of their individual stories. Plenty of armor to wear to avoid detection if memorized, and layered correctly.

She shoved her hands into the pockets of her grey wool coat that was buttoned all the way to the neck. She had teal gloves on, but they did little to keep out the cold. The wind chill, and the air off of Lake Superior left her feeling far colder to the 20 that had been broadcast for the day. The sun had been shy most of the day and hiding behind the privacy of clouds, and that didn't help with the chill that seemed to cut through to her bones. In these colder months, she longed for her days in California more then she ever could have imagined possible. She continued her approach to the coffee shop, her mouth closing, done with rambling under her breath, now that she was no longer alone on the pathway. She moved to the side to let a group of the University students at the local college. Even after all this time, she didn't do well in crowds, and after they had continued past her, she exhaled a breath she hadn't been aware she was holding.

She shook her head, attempting to clear her thoughts. Taking her turn and seeing the familiar coffee house before her. An interview. She hadn't had one in so long, and she wasn't supposed to be pursuing other employment. If her case worker through the witness protection program was aware of her endeavor she would have received a call screaming about her carelessness and her family would be relocated. She'd been threatened with the bowels of Kentucky if she was careless. Even a frozen tundra appealed to her more then that, and she was beginning to wonder if working so her and her Husband's hour were similar would maybe, just maybe, save their marriage.

She'd been contacted via her fake resume on one of those head hunting sites. She'd received a few, but this one had caught her attention, due to it's high pay scale, superior benefits, and flexibility. Especially when ranked with her current position at the call center. It was a high stress job, directing 911 calls, and knowing that despite her best efforts, there was only so much one could do on the phone, as they waited for the paramedics to arrive. It took a toll on ones sanity, listening to that much terror, and sadness, and though her life had certainly more then prepared through personal experiences to share empathy, it left her more drained, and wore down then she would have expected.

The details of the job would be covered with a Mr. Fritz Ehrenfeld. A German Businessman, who was opening a consulting firm for the shipping industry, and he would have offices around the world when he was through. He had picked Duluth for his United States location, according to the email she had received earlier that week. Through some pleasant emails back and forth, her and the friendly Anna Stein had decided upon the coffee shop, since her and Mr. Ehrenfeld were on town through the weekend to decide upon a location. While they were there, why not hold interviews for the position of head of the call center.

Feeling confident in her chances, given her relevant experience, and more the fake experience that the US Government had provided her with, including a diploma that said she had graduated with Honors from the University of Nebraska, with a major in Public Relations. She gave herself a smile in the mirror before heading in, to make sure nothing from her earlier rushed lunch had decided to lodge itself in her teeth. Finding her appearance to be acceptable she entered the coffee shop and surveyed it's occupants. Eliminating all the men immediately, and letting her gaze fall over each of the women that were there alone. Finally focusing on a tall redhead, with bird like features. Her hair in a tight bun that was held at the nape of her neck with an army of bobbypins. She was also dressed well, a grey suit jacket, fit to kill, and matching pants, a burgundy camisole with lace detailing below her jacket. She rose when Kim's eyes landed on her, and she gave a little smile, tilting her head. "Susan?"

Kim's smile filled her face and she nodded, moving to shake the womans' hand. All business and charm immediately. She crossed to take her hand, giving it a friendly squeeze before shaking it. "Anna Stein? It's a pleasure." The woman laughed warmly, taking her hand and shaking it, the her other hand moving to take Kim's giving them a reassuring pat. " I was hoping you'd be on time. Every candidate I've interviewed today has been late, except for the last one who didn't show up at all. " She admitted, the irritation in her voice evident, even as she tried to laugh it away. Moving to sit down, sliding a cup of coffee over to Kim, before returning to her own.

"I figured you'd be fine with just some coffee while we went over your resume, and had your preliminary interview before we go over to the Office and have you meet Mr. Ehrenfeld. Should this go well. Though I'm not worried after seeing your credentials." Anna added conspiratorially as she took out a printed copy of Susan Peterson's resume, glancing down at it before returning her attention to the woman who claimed to be of that name. Asking her first how she had enjoyed her time at the University of Nebraska, and mixing in some zinger questions, to try and ascertain her work ethic, and priorities.

Kim gained ground easily. Barely stumbling on any questions, as she sipped the cup of coffee that had been passed to her. Answering each question with something appropriate and occasionally poignant or witty. The interview sped by, and when she had finished the interview questions, Anna admitted that she had done well, by saying. "Very good, Susan. I think Mr. Ehrenfeld would be rather upset with me if I didn't bring you by for the second part of the interview. Did you want to drive, or just ride with me? I know right where we're going. It might be easier if you just got a ride with me. I'll drop you at your car after, if you like?

Kim smiled and nodded. Her head was starting to hurt a little, and she didn't want to walk all the way back to the free parking she had found several blocks away. It was always hard to find parking in this city, and a sense of pride made her more willing to walk, then to pay an arm and a leg so her car could sit while she worked, or shopped, or whatever it was she was off too. Her headache had nothing on her excitement at having done so well on the interview, and she followed Anna into the parking ramp she'd chosen, after their bill was paid. Anna's long legs carried her quickly, and she had to hold the elevator for Kim after they'd reached the ramp she was parked in. After unlocking the rental car, Anna climbed in, waiting for Kim to get settled, and once they were both buckled, she turned on the radio. Blasting Jimi Hendrix, as she drove the spiraling circles down to the main floor of the ramp. Anna handed over her credit card, and paid, and was barely onto the street, when Kim's voice interrupted "All Along The Watchtower." Anna turned it down, glancing to the brunette sitting beside her. "What was that, dear?"

Kim repeated herself, her tongue feeling like it was cotton, reproducing in her mouth. Struggling to form the words, the headache intensifying. "I don't feel well. I should go to the hospital."

Anna frowned, studying her for a moment. Murmuring. "If that's what you want, but Mr. Ehrenfeld is waiting."

Kim shook her head, feeling her breathing beginning to become more and more difficult, her eyes widening, hand moving to her throat* Maybe…. allergy….

Anna shook her head a little, turning the sound down further on the radio. "I doubt it was an allergy. Probably the Rohyphnol in your coffee."

Kim shook her head, trying to place what that word meant, but not able to grasp the meaning, as she struggled to fight the dizziness that was taking her. Anna's voice was the last thing she heard before fading out of consciousness, the reassuring hand on her back in sharp contrast to the promise of her words. "Just rest now, Kim. You'll be in capable hands very soon."


End file.
